PR 4812 
.B3 
1922 
Copy 2 



Leigh Hunt's 
Robin Hood 

With Manuscript Reproductions 






i 



Ballads of Robin Hood 









LEIGH HUNT AT ACE 66 



Ballads of Robin Hood 



Bg LEIGH HUNT 
Witk Some Manuscript Reproductions 




PRIVATELY PRINTED 
CEDAR RAPIDS IOWA 
NINETEEN TWENTY-TWO 



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:■■ 



Two hundred copies printed 

pi 



Copyright 1022 
By Luther A. Brewer 



THE TORCH PRESS 

CEDAR RAPIDS 

IOWA 



JUL 17 19?? 
0- 



©CLA674951 T 



A FOREWORD 

Sorting out, a few evenings back, a large amount of 
Leigh Hunt manuscript acquired at auction, and en- 
deavoring to place it in first editions of the author in my 
possession, I was delighted to find that I had several 
pages of a draft of some of the verses of his Ballads of 
Robin Hood, 

These pages are reproduced in this reprint. 
They are interesting, not only as specimens of the 
hand-writing of Hunt, but as showing some differences 
between them as printed and as here written. 

The initial stanza in the book does not bear any rela- 
tion to the manuscript copy except in the thought, which 
is the same in the two versions. 

Hunt tells us that these ballads were founded on the 
popular assumption that the good outlaw Robin Hood, 
"the gentlest of thieves," was of "gentle blood." "It is 
a very good and very probable assumption," he continues, 
"considering how the Saxon gentry in his time were 
robbed of their estates by their Norman tyrants; and it 
ought never to be more popular than now, when to feel 
for the suffering of all classes, and endeavour to advance 
the whole human race, is a mark of the highest education, 



6 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

that of the Sovereign included. The author adopted the 
metrical license of the old ballads while writing on this 
subject, but it was not his object to confine himself to 
their manner." 

In view of the fact that a million dollars or more is 
now being expended by a prominent cinema actor in the 
production of a picture founded on this story, I feel that 
this reprint, embellished by Hunt's autograph copy of 
more than twenty of the stanzas, will prove of interest 
to the few for whom this publication is intended. 

Luther A. Brewer 
Cedar Rapids Iowa 

July 14 1922 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

(For children) 

ROBIN HOOD A CHILD 

It was the pleasant season yet, 
When the stones at cottage doors 

Dry quickly while the roads are wet, 
After the silver showers. 

The green leaves they look'd greener still, 
And the thrush, renewing his tune, 

Shook a loud note from his gladsome bill 
Into the bright blue noon. 

Robin Hood's mother look'd out, and said, 

"It were a shame and a sin, 
For fear of getting a wet head, 

To keep such a day within, 
Nor welcome up from his sick bed 

Your uncle Gamelyn." 

And Robin leap'd for mirth and glee, 

And so they quit the door, 
And "Mother, I'm your dog," quoth he, 

And scamper'd on before. 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 






BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

Robin was a gentle boy, 

And therewithal as bold; 
To say he was his mother's joy, 

It were a phrase too cold. 

His hair upon his thoughtful brow 

Came smoothly clipp'd and sleek, 
But ran into a curl somehow. 

Beside his merrier cheek. 

Great love to him his uncle, too, 

The noble Gamelyn bare, 
And often said, as his mother knew, 

That he should be his heir. 

Gamelyn's eyes, now getting dim, 

Would twinkle at his sight, 
And his ruddy wrinkles laugh at him 

Between his locks so white : 

For Robin already let him see 
He should beat his playmates all 

At wrestling, and running, and archery, 
For, he cared not for a fall. 

Now and then his gall arose, 

And into a rage he flew; 
But 'twas only at such as Tom Harden's blows, 
Who, when he had given a bloody nose, 
Used to mimic the cock when he crows ; 

Otherwise Rob laugh'd too. 



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BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD n 

Merriest he was of merry boys, 

And would set the old helmets bobbing: 

If his uncle ask'd about the noise, 
'Twas "If you please, sir, Robin." 

And yet if the old man wish'd no noise, 

He'd come and sit at his knee, 
And be the gravest of grave-eyed boys, 

And not a word spoke he. 

So whenever he and his mother came 

To brave old Shere Wood Hall, 
'Twas nothing there but sport and game, 

And holiday folks all: 
The servants never were to blame, 

Though they let the pasty fall. 

And now the travellers turn the road, 

And now they hear the rooks ; 
And there it is, — the old abode, 

With all its hearty looks. 

Robin laugh'd, and the lady too, 

And they look'd at one another ; 
Says Robin, "I'll knock as I'm used to do 

At uncle's window, mother." 

And so he pick'd up some pebbles and ran, 

And jumping higher and higher, 
He reach'd the windows with tan a ran tan, 



I2 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 










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BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 13 

And instead of the kind old white-hair'd man, 
There look'd out a fat friar. 

"How now," said the fat friar angrily, 

"What is this knocking so wild?" 
But when he saw young Robin's eye, 

He said, "Go round, my child. 

"Go round to the hall, and I'll tell you all." 

"He'll tell us all!" thought Robin; 
And his mother and he went quietly, 

Though her heart was set a throbbing. 

The friar stood in the inner door, 

And tenderly said, "I fear 
You know not the good squire's no more, 

Even Gamelyn Shere. 

"Gamelyn of Shere Wood is dead, 

He changed but yesternight:" 
"Now make us way," the lady said, 

"To see that doleful sight." 

"Good old Gamelyn Shere is dead, 

And has made us his holy heirs :" 
The lady stay'd not for all he said, 

But went weeping up the stairs. 

Robin and she went hand in hand, 
Weeping all the way, 



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BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 15 

Until they came where the lord of that land 
Dumb in his cold bed lay. 

His hand she took, and saw his dead look, 

With the lids over each eye-ball; 
And Robin and she wept as plenteously, 

As though he had left them all. 

"I will return, Sir Abbot of Vere, 

I will return, as is meet, 
And see my honour'd brother dear 

Laid in his winding sheet. 

"And I will stay, for to go were a sin, 

For all a woman's tears, 
And see the noble Gamelyn 

Laid equal with the Veres.' ' 

The lady went with a sick heart out 

Into the fresh air, 
And told hen Robin all about 

The abbot whom he saw there : 

And how his uncle must have been 

Disturb'd in his failing sense, 
To leave his wealth to these artful men, 

At her's and Robin's expense. 

Sad was the stately day for all 
But the Vere Abbey friars, 



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18 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

When the coffin was stript of its hiding pall, 
Amidst the hushing choirs. 

Sad was its going down into the dust, 
And the thought of the face departed; 

The lady shook at them, as shake we must, 
And Robin he felt strange-hearted. 

That self-same evening, nevertheless, 
They return'd to Locksley town, 

The lady in a sore distress, 
And Robin looking down. 

No word he spoke, no note he took 

Of bird, or beast, or aught, 
Till she ask'd him with a woful look 

What made him so full of thought. 

"I was thinking, mother," said little Robin, 

And with his own voice so true 
He spoke right out, "That if I was a king, 
Or if I was a man, which is the next thing, 
I'd see what those friars do. 

"I wouldn't let 'em be counted friars, 
If they did as these have done, 

But make 'em fight, for rogues and liars; 

I'd make 'em fight, to see which was right, 
Them, or the mother's son." 

His mother stoop'd with a tear of joy, 
And she kiss'd him again and again, 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 19 

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20 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

And said, "My own little Robin boy, 
Thou wilt be a King of Men." 

ROBIN HOOD'S FLIGHT 

Robin Hood's mother, these ten years now, 
Has been gone from her earthly home; 

And Robin has paid, he scarce knew how, 
A sum for a noble tomb. 

The churchyard lies on a woody hill, 

But open to sun and air : 
It seems as if the heaven still 

Were blessing the good bones there. 

Often when Robin turn'd that way, 
He look'd through a sweet thin tear; 

But he look'd in a different manner, they say, 
Towards the Abbey of Vere. 

Custom had made him not care for wealth, 

Sincere was his mirth at pride ; 
He had youth, and strength, and health, 

And enough for one beside. 

But he thought of his gentle mother's cheek, 

How it faded and sunk away, 
And how she used to grow more weak 

And weary every day: 

And how, when trying a hymn, her voice 
At evening would expire, 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 21 

How unlike it was the arrogant noise 
Of the hard throats in the choir: 

And Robin thought too of the poor, 

How they toil'd without their share, 
And how* the alms at the abbey door 

But kept them as they were: 

And he thought him then of the friars again, 

Who rode jingling up and down, 
With their trappings and things as fine as the King's, 

Though they wore but a shaven crown. 

And then of the king bold Robin he thought, 

And the homes for his sports undone; 
How the poor were turn'd out where his deer were brought 

Yet on body and soul what agonies wrought, 

If starving, they killed but one. 

And in angry mood, as Robin thus stood, 

Digging his bow in the ground, 
He was aware in old Shere Wood, 

Of a huckster who look'd around. 

"And what is Will doing?" said Robin then, 

"That he looks so fearful and wan?" 
"Oh my dear master that should have been, 

I am a weary man. 

"A weary man," said Will Nokes, "am I 
For unless I pilfer this wood 



22 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

To sell to the fletchers, for want I shall die 
Here in this forest so good. 

"Here in this forest where I have been 

So happy and so stout, 
And like a palfry on the green, 

Have carried yourself about." 

"And why, Will Nokes, not come to me? 

Why not to Robin, Will ? 
For I remember thy love and thy glee, 

And the scar that marks thee still; 

"And not a soul of my uncle's men 

To such a pass should come, 
While Robin can find in his pocket or bin 

A penny or a crumb. 

"Stay thee, Will Nokes, man, stay awhile; 

And kindle a fire for me." 
And into the wood for half a mile, 

He has vanish'd instantly. 

Robin Hood, with his cheek on fire, 

Has drawn his bow so stern, 
And a leaping deer, with one leap higher, 

Lies motionless in the fern. 

Robin, like a proper knight, 
As he should have been, 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 23 

Carv'd a part of the shoulder right, 
And bore off a portion clean. 

"Oh, what hast thou done, dear master mine, 

What hast thou done for me ?" 
"Roast it, Will, for excepting wine, 

Thou shalt feast thee royally." 

And Nokes he took and half roasted it, 

Blubbering with blinding tears, 
And ere he had eaten a second bit, 

A trampling came to their ears. 

They heard the tramp of a horse's feet, 

And they listen'd and kept still, 
For Will was feeble, and knelt by the meat ; 

And Robin he stood by Will. 

"Seize him! seize him!" the Abbot cried 

With his fat voice through the trees; 
Robin a smooth arrow felt and eyed, 

And Will jump'd stout with his knees. 

Time had made the fat Abbot, I trow, 

A fatter and angrier man; 
Yet the voice was the same that twelve years ago 
Out of the window, to Robin below, 

Answer'd the tan a ran tan. 

"Seize him! seize him!" and now they appear, 
The Abbott and foresters three: 



24 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

" 'Twas I," cried Will, "that slew the deer:" 
Says Robin, "Now let not a man come near, 
Or he's dead as dead can be." 

But on they came, and with gullet cleft 

The first one met the shaft ; 
And he fell with a face of all mirth bereft, 

That just before had laugh'd. 

The others turn'd to that Abbot vain, 

But "Seize him!" still he cried, 
And as the second man turn'd again, 

The second man shriek'd and died. 

"Seize him, seize him still, I say," 
Cried the Abbot, in furious chafe, 

"Or these dogs will grow so bold some day, 
E'en monks will not be safe." 

A fatal word! for as he sat, 

Urging the sword to cut, 
An arrow stuck in his paunch so fat, 

As in a leathern butt: 

As in a leathern butt of wine, 

Or piece of beef so round, 
Stuck that arrow, strong and fine; 

Sharp had it been ground. 

I know not what the Abbot, alack! 
Thought when that was done; 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 25 

But there tumbled from the horse's back 
A matter of twenty stone. 

"Truly," said Robin without fear, 

Smiling there as he stood, 
"Never was slain so fat a deer 

In good old Gamelyn's wood." 

"Pardon, pardon, Sir Robin stout," 

Said he that stood apart, 
"As soon as I knew thee, I wish'd thee out 

Of the forest with all my heart. 

"And I pray thee let me follow thee 

Anywhere under the sky, 
For thou wilt never stay here with me, 

Nor without thee can I." 

Robin smiled, and suddenly fell 

Into a little thought; 
And then into a leafy dell 

The three slain men they brought. 

Ankle deep in leaves so red, 

Which autumn there had cast, 
When going to her winter bed 

She had undrest her last. 

And there in a hollow, side by side, 
They buried them under the treen; 



26 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

The Abbot's belly, for all its pride, 
Made not the grave be seen. 

Robin Hood, and the forester, 

And Nokes the happy Will, 
Struck off among the green leaves there 

Up a pathless hill; 

And Robin caught a sudden sight 
Of merry sweet Locksley town, 

Reddening in the sunset bright ; 
And the gentle tears came down. 

Robin look'd at the town and land, 
And the churchyard where it lay; 

And loving Will he kiss'd his hand, 
And turn'd his head away. 

Then Robin turn'd with a grasp of Will's, 
And clapp'd him on the shoulder, 

And said, with one of his pleasant smiles, 
"Now show us three men bolder." 

And so they took their march away, 

As firm as if to fiddle, 
To journey that night and all next day, 

With Robin Hood in the middle. 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 27 

ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 

Robin Hood is an outlaw bold, 

Under the greenwood tree; 
Bird, nor stag, nor morning air, 

Is more at large than he. 

They sent against him twenty men, 

Who join'd him laughing-eyed ; 
They sent against him thirty more, 

And they remain'd beside. 

All the stoutest of the train 

That grew in Gamelyn wood, 
Whether they came with these or not, 

Are now with Robin Hood. 

And not a soul in Locksley town 

Would speak him an ill word; 
The friars raged; but no man's tongue, 

Nor even feature stirred ; 

Except among a very few, 

Who dined in the Abbey halls ; 
And then with a sigh bold Robin knew 

His true friends from his false. 

There was Roger the monk, that used to make 

All monkery his glee; 
And Midge, on whom Robin had never turn'd 

His face but tenderly; 



28 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

With one or two, they say, besides — 

Lord! that in this life's dream 
Men should abandon one true thing, 

That would abide with them. 

We cannot bid our strength remain, 

Our cheeks continue round; 
We cannot say to an aged back, 

Stoop not towards the ground: 

We cannot bid our dim eyes see 

Things as bright as ever, 
Nor tell our friends, though friends from youth, 

That they'll forsake us never: 

But we can say, / never will, 

False world, be false for thee; 
And, oh Sound Truth and Old Regard 

Nothing shall part us three. 

HOW ROBIN AND HIS OUTLAWS LIVED IN THE WOODS 

Robin and his merry men 

Liv'd just like the birds; 
They had almost as many tracks as thoughts, 

And whistles and songs as words. 

All the morning they were wont 

To fly their gray-goose quills 
At butts, or trees, or wands and twigs, 

Till theirs was the skill of skills. 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 29 

With swords, too, they played lustily, 

And at quarter-staff; 
Buffets oft their forfeits were, 

Fit to twirl a calf. 

Friends who join'd the sport were bound 

Those hazards to endure; 
But foes were lucky to carry away 

What took a year to cure. 

The horn was then their dinner-bell; 

When, like princes of the wood, 
Under the state of summer trees, 

Pure venison was their food. 

Pure venison and good ale or wine, 

Except when luck was chuff; 
Or grant 'twas Adam's ale ; what then ? 

Their blood was wine enough. 

And story then, and jest, and song, 

And Harry's harp went round ; 
And sometimes they'd get up and dance, 

For pleasure of the sound. 

Tingle, tangle! said the harp, 

As they footed in and out: 
Good Lord! was ever seen a dance 

At once so light and stout? 



30 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

A pleasant sight, especially 

If Margery was there, 
Or little Ciss, or laughing Bess, 

That tired out six pair. 

Or any other merry lass 

From the neighbouring villages, 

Who came with milk and eggs, or fruit, 
A singing through the trees. 

Only they say the men were given 

Too often to take wives, 
And then, 'twixt forest and a shop, 

Lead strange half-honest lives. 

But all the country round about 
Was fond of Robin Hood, 

With whom they got a share of more 
Than fagots from the wood. 

Nor ever would he suffer harm, 

To woman, above all ; 
No plunder, were she ne'er so great, 

No fright to great or small; 

No, — not a single kiss unliked, 
Nor one look-saddening clip; 

Accurst be he, said Robin Hood, 
Makes pale a woman's lip. 



BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 31 

And then, oh then, Maid Marian came 

From her proud brother's hall, 
With a world of love and tears, 

And smiles behind them all. 

They built her bowers in forests three, 

To flit from one to t'other, 
And Robin and she reign'd as pleasant to all, 

As faithful to one another. 

Only upon the Normans proud, 

And on their unjust store, 
He'd lay his fines of equity 

For his merry men and the poor. 

And special was his joy, no doubt, 

(Which made the dish to curse,) 
To light upon a good fat friar, 

And carve him of his purse. 

A monk to him was a toad in the hole, 

And a priest was a pig in grain, 
But a bishop was a baron of beef, 

To cut and come again. 

Says Robin to the poor who came 

To ask of him relief, 
You do but get your goods again 

That were altered by the thief. 



32 BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

See here now is a plump new coin, 
And here's a lawyer's cloak, 

And here's the horse the bishop rode, 
When suddenly he woke. 

Well, ploughman, there's a sheaf of yours 

Turn'd to yellow gold: 
And, miller, there's your last year's rent, 

'Twill wrap thee from the cold. 

And you there, Wat of Herefordshire, 
Who such a way have come, 

Get upon your land-tax, man, 
And ride it merrily home. 



JUL 



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